


I ate you up the day we first spoke

by Florchis



Series: love bites so deep [1]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, First Kiss, Light Drinking, Long Live Feedback Comment Project, M/M, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-26
Updated: 2018-04-26
Packaged: 2019-04-28 02:07:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14439177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/pseuds/Florchis
Summary: Hunter pays back one of the many favours he owes to Bobbi by picking up her girlfriend from the airport, and gets much more than he bargained for in the form of her science-babble producer, skittish mannered, bad tempered lab partner.





	I ate you up the day we first spoke

**Author's Note:**

  * For [RulerOfTurtles](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RulerOfTurtles/gifts).



> From a prompt that asked for FitzHunter's first kiss. This includes quite a bit of past-romantic/present-platonic Huntingbird, a little of platonic Fitzsimmons and a side of romantic Simmorse.

This is not how things were meant to go.

It was fairly simple: Bobbi’s latest fling needed a ride, and since he owed her- Bobbi, not the fling- a couple of favours- _do you call saving your ass more than once in the same afternoon a favour, Lancelot?-_ , he couldn’t help but comply.

He likes driving, and Bobbi even gave him gas money, so, really, it could be worse. He just got to pick up this bird at the airport while Bobbi… clips her toenails or curls all the hairs on her body, or whatever thing women do to smarten themselves up for other women, he doesn’t want to know. Drop her at their flat. Help himself to a couple of beers and then fall asleep face first on Mack’s couch. Easy as the ABC.

He didn’t know the bird would have… company.

At first, he tries to tell himself that is none of his business, pretending that he doesn’t care about them while he observes them on his rear-view mirror: they are talking at full speed over each other, Hunter can barely put apart one sentence from the other, but they seem to follow each other seamlessly, because there are moments where he swears they don’t even draw in breath before tumbling into the next full-speed rant.

They are even cute, in a nerdish kind of way, and he can understand what Bobbi- who is an enormous not-so-secret nerd herself- sees on this girl, with the almond eyes and the excited hands and the actress name. He wonders what is the deal with the boy- he knows they are well off-age, but really, they look so young with their bright eyes and their full smiles-, all blue eyes and fidgety fingers and high voice, what has he have to do with young prodigy here, and what is he even going to do after Hunter delivers his lovely partner to be truly debauched by Bobbi.

He shrugs, even if only to himself; that is definitely not his department: he is, after all, just the driver here, and these adult-kids need to learn how to take care of themselves the hard way.

His hard ass pretense lasts- even in his own mind- for the whooping amount of ten minutes. Maybe nine and a half. He warms up to things- and even more to people- easily, no matter how much he pretends he doesn’t, and by the end of the ride he wants to squeeze them both into his pocket. Which, of course, means that he was about to take pity on the boy and take him out for a pint of his own volition, at least until the girls have gone hoarse enough that he won't be awakened by the screams.

Really, he totally was, but then Bobbi had to go and ruin it with her most commanding voice,  "Why don't you take Fitz out for a drink, Hunter?".

It is a tone that Hunter recognizes very well, because it means _We might not be married anymore, but don't believe for one second that you have a choice to not do as I ask._ The worst part is that, fuck, she is right, but she has also fucked up the chance to make it look casual and carefree, now is like they are forced to stay together, and even the bird frowns slightly at the phrasing. But then Bobbi places a hand on her hip, and Hunter can see her hold tightening and the shivers that irradiate from the point of contact, and in twenty-three seconds they are gone and he is left with a small pile of very grumpy, not-happy-at-all, kid.

(He is refusing to acknowledge the fact that he is barely two inches taller than him.)

“You don’t know me and you are probably tired as all hell, mate, but a pint or two can make anything better, don’t you think?”

The kid seems to consider his options, the grey sky, the door that swallowed the girls, Hunter’s crooked smile, and finally shoulders his luggage and lets out a resigned sigh.

“Lead the way.”

* * *

Hunter takes him to his favourite seedy pub. Pubs are not supossed to be fancy and clean, because they are not measured by the quality of their chairs but by the quality of their ales, if Hunter can say so himself. The kid frowns his nose a tiny bit, and doesn’t touch the counter with his hands under Hunter’s amused glance, but he still sits very straight on the stool.

Hunter orders a pint for himself, and when he is opening his mouth to ask the bartender if he has something alcohol-free _for the kid here_ , the boy asks for a very specific kind of beer, leaving Hunter slightly impressed.

He is on his best behaviour, what with not making a pip when the glasses arrive and the boy cleans the edge very meticulously before taking it to his mouth. After that, he surely can be allowed one (1) non malicious biting comment.

“I didn't even notice you were Scottish in the car, what with all the indistinguishable science gobbledygook.”

The boy- _Fitz,_ Hunter remembers suddenly, the odd name cracking on his tongue, the soft vowel part and the hard consonant sound, both of them barely filling his mouth, leaving him with a strange sensation of thirst on his throat and tingling on his lips- scowls at him, and a laugh bubbles inside Hunter’s chest. The kid has teeth, good to know. He doesn't do well when he can't treat someone like an equal.

Hunter makes a conciliatory toast after that; he likes this boy, science babble and skittish manners and bad temper included.

“It is good to have someone around to talk proper football.”

He pretends he is not, but Hunter actually is very observant- perks of the trade, that they say-, and he sees the corner of Fitz’s mouth tickling up slightly.

“Well, I guess you will take the news better than Barbara, then.” Hunter can’t help a grimace at hearing Bobbi’s full given name. It only makes sense, though, with someone who has not treated her. “Or, at least that is what Simmons thinks. She was freaking out the entire flight here.”

“Oh, really? And what news might that be?”

Fitz sends his way a calculating look from the corner of his eyes, and finally shrugs.

“We got a job offer here, starting next month. Big company, big lab, big grant, big everything. We are still playing hard to get, but we are going to say yes.”

“Cheers to that, mate.” Hunter clinks their almost-empty glasses together, and gestures the bartender for another round. “So, tell me: what is the deal with you and genius bird, besides working together?”

Fitz cleans the border of his glass again, but this time he is glaring at Hunter while he does it.  

“I told you, we are lab partners.” He makes a pause, considers. “And friends. Best friends.”

He is way past defending Bobbi’s honour- not only because Bobbi can defend it single-handedly and blindfolded much better than he ever will-, but he is still curious; the energy in the car was way too charged for it to just be friendship.

“And nothing else? I know she is dating Bobbi, but the UK and America are far apart, and I don't judge.”

Fitz opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again and keeps it open for a little while, giving him the appearance of something like a fish out of water; finally, instead of replying, he charges against him.

“What is the deal with _you_ and Barbara, anyway?”

Hunter takes pleasure in the way he sails the question with- he thinks- a lot of grace.

“Been married once. Didn't work out.”

“But you live together.”

Lance Hunter doesn’t pride himself in knowing a lot of things, but this, _this,_ is something he knows and that he wants to offer as a piece of precious advice to the younger generations.  

“Just because we got divorced doesn't mean we stopped loving each other.”

There are no words to properly describe the myriad of emotions that runs through Fitz’s face in ten seconds, from shock to relief to empathy. It throws Hunter a little off balance, because so far Fitz hasn’t been detached, but his reactions had been more around the lines of hostility, and to see so much tenderness in his face is bewildering.

Maybe he should ask, maybe there is an understanding they can share there, in the way they both love those women that are now learning to love each other, but there is so much intimacy two men can share in a first encounter, and if they are going to become part of the same extended family, they will have time for that later.

Instead, Hunter asks for a next round and guides Fitz over to a booth a little more secluded, where the music doesn’t sound as loud. Fitz raises his eyebrows, unimpressed, when Hunter scoots on the same side of the booth as him, but Hunter just winks at him.

“Now, tell me for which looser team you root most, or which wanker you want to sink fastest.”

* * *

When he comes back to an actual sense of time and space, it’s almost 2 am, and Adam, the bartender, is giving them an amused look. Hunter looks around, he has lost count of the amount of beers they had drunk, talking football and old movies and letting Fitz babble about monkeys, his eyes fixed on the points of colour from excitement high on Fitz’s cheeks.

Hunter shushes away Fitz’s attempts to pay, and promises Adam he will pay him tomorrow, next week, next month, whenever I get a decent job, you know the drill. Fitz frowns at that, but Adam dismisses them with a hand gesture, and calls after them to _have a lovely night, boys,_ and Fitz blushes crimson up to the root of his hair, and Hunter laughs wolfishly to try to dissolve the butterflies in his stomach.

Once they are outside, his head clears immediately; he is well aware of how light the beers were, and that he was more drunk on the company than on the alcohol. Fitz walks by his side, and besides the blush that has not subsided, he is filling his shoulders more than ever, it makes Hunter realize that confidence is a good look on everyone, but especially on him.

They walk in silence for a little while; it’s not exactly comfortable, but it’s a lot less tense than expected, and Hunter steals glances to Fitz every once in a while, and whenever he does it and catches Fitz doing the same, Fitz averts his eyes, wringing his hands together.

Hunter is not dumb, no matter how much math he doesn’t know and how many languages he doesn’t speak; just because he chooses to be an asshole sometimes doesn’t mean that he isn’t a people person, either, and he knows exactly what is going on. Maybe the location was a bit odd, and it’s better not to think too hard on the reason why they went out together, but besides that? The easy conversation, the laughing, the good beer and the good company, and now the stroll along the river line, making Fitz’s lips look unfairly red; without being one, it has been the very best first date Hunter has ever had.

He is also not naive about the potential of his own feelings; he know this just as he knew when he wanted to marry Bobbi, and even though it was a tortuous road, as he knew too when he wanted to divorce her. He is pretty sure that Fitz would be on board with what is going through his mind and his blood right now, but maybe Fitz is doubting exactly Hunter’s interest on him, since they only talked about his ex-wife, and not about other… kind of lovers Hunters has had.

He ponders over rectifying that situation, but finally decides against it; he likes things to happen organically than having to orchestrate everything, reason why he hated Bobbi’s intromission so much just on principle. He doesn’t believe that much that if things have to happen, they will happen, but he is a fan of action more than words.

To his surprise, thought, he is not the one who takes the next bold step.

“Do you think we really looked like we were on a date, or he was just teasing us?”

The question makes his heart rate speed up, but he shrugs, trying to play it cool.

“Dunno, love. Does it really matter?”

Only after hearing Fitz’s sharp intake of breath he realizes that the usual pet name has slipped from his lips without a second thought, and while he uses it liberally with pretty much everyone, it is different when it can carry a very charged implication. Hunter is about to apologize, or make a joke to lighten up the dense air, maybe both, but Fitz is having chills strong enough that Hunter can see his body shaking even in the dim light.

Hunter takes a step towards him, wanting to ask him if he is okay, and at the same time Fitz turns his head around and looks him straight in the eyes. The force of that look almost knocks Hunter out of air. It's intoxicating to have someone look at him like that, with a laser-focus attention and the openness of a beautiful soul. Bobbi looked at him like that, once, before everything went to shit, and it made Hunter freak the hell out. He was not supposed to be seen as something valuable and precious.

And yet, this boy with the prettiest eyes and the sarcastic mouth is looking at him like that and it makes him want to drown on that gaze instead of running away from it.

He takes another step closer.

“Maybe it does matter.” Fitz is looking away, true, but he is grabbing the bull by the horns by even addressing this, and Hunter does admire bravery. “Because it would mean that is the nicest first date I’ve ever had by far.”

Hunter is mesmerized by the shaking of his hands, and it takes him a second too long to take his eyes off of them. He moves them up Fitz’s torso to his face, afraid that when he gets to his eyes, he will find regret there. His brow is furrowed, his lips are also trembling, but his eyes are certain, and Hunter’s heart skips a beat.

For everything that he likes to play detached, he is not afraid of love and never has been. And yet, now that the ball is on his court, he is terrified that the flame he can feel rising inside his chest will be smothered quickly and painfully.

But it’s true that no risk means no gain, and he loves the risk almost as much as he loves the gain.

Fitz’s skin is burning when Hunter cradles his cheeks between his hands, but when he strokes his stubble with his thumbs, Fitz closes his eyes with a sigh and finally relax. That is his cue for going farther, but instead of pressing his lips against Fitz's, Hunter closes his own eyes and rubs his nose along Fitz's jaw, his cheeks, his nose. He does not remember ever having another first kiss happening in slow motion like this one, and he wants to enjoy every second. 

Fitz’s breath makes his lips tingle, but Hunter tries to keep the impulse under control, not lurging towards his mouth, but pressing first a closed-mouthed kiss on each cheek, over the corners of Fitz’s mouth. He places one weight-free kiss over Fitz’s lips, his fingers tangling on the hair at the nape of his neck. The intimacy of the moment- cold wind ringing on his ears the only reminder of the outside world- increases the excitement in his belly and the challenge of not giving in. It is strange to be doing this kind of game with someone before even kissing them properly, but somehow it feels right; one can only have one first kiss with each person, and this is a first kiss that Hunter wants to remember.

It’s when his lips have found their way behind Fitz’s ear- and onto a spot that makes him flap his hands furiously- that Fitz has had enough. It’s a stream of seamless movement that leaves Hunter breathless and defenseless: Fitz’s soft curse, his eyes opening with a fierce and determined look, the way he manhandles Hunter to press him against the railing, the solid weight of his body against Hunter’s- he might look scrawny and small, but there is some muscle behind those nerdy clothes- the anticipation of his breath against Hunter’s lips.

He is so close that Hunter can almost taste the kiss on his tongue, but Fitz stops, barely half an inch from his lips.

“Just for the record, I’m not in the habit of kissing strangers.”

Hunter, hungry in a way he hasn’t felt in a long time, strokes Fitz’s upper lip with his thumb. He is not sure why that piece of information is so important to Fitz, but since it is, he accepts it.

“Good thing I’m not a stranger, then.”

Fitz groans, and Hunter drinks the sound and the air that comes from his mouth, their lips finally falling together like two magnets with opposite charges, Fitz’s- wide, strong- hands on his hips, the railing stabbing him on the back, his fingers clutching Fitz’s shoulders for dear life. The buildup makes the first clash of their mouths intense, and the subsequent kiss even more so; the way they teased and worked each other up through the night translating to the physical intimacy too.

His brain shuts up almost immediately, and Hunter is left only with the sensations of the kiss, the roughness and the care, the cold of the night and the moist warmth of Fitz’s mouth, the thrill of the novelty and the satisfaction of an itch scratched.

The realization that the beer tastes, oh, so much sweeter from Fitz’s mouth. And coming from Lance Hunter, that is saying something.

Hunter grabs the flaps of Fitz’s coat and pulls him closer, deepening the kiss and making Fitz moan when he nibbles on his lower lip. This is anything but simple, Bobbi probably will be royally pissed off, but when he slides his hand against the bare skin of Fitz’s back and is rewarded with another soft curse that makes his desire skyrocket, Hunter can not even pretend that he regrets it.   

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of LLF Comment Project, whose goal is to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites:
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Prompts
>   * Image reactions
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> This author replies to comments (but it might take a while). If you'd rather not get a reply, please add *whispers* to your comment.



End file.
